Two Eyes Cenote Moral Panic

Directly after this thread.

@Legend

He had awoken before her, the two still cradled together in the low light, expecting the hunger growing in his stomach to be sated. When had there last been touch without the implicit expectation of it leading to something more? There was something so profoundly intimate about simply holding the woman to his chest—not as a lover, not as a body to use for empty words of affection.

At least not for tonight.

Yet, why did he still feel unsatisfied? Hadn't an entire night stolen from her been enough? Couldn't she be embraced by someone who truly cared for her, who saw her as a person, not just a tool for survival?

What right did he have to feel so comfortable, to sit in silence so as not to disturb her slumber? To acknowledge deep down the emptiness of their connection, yet still ache for it not to end?

What right did he have?

I'm sorry.

For the violence he had inflicted upon her when they had met. Sorry for the night's manipulation and the lurking willingness to repeat it.

Survival is all that matters.

I'm sorry.

For those whose names he had not learned. Sorry for the unsettling realization that he was starting to care for her, yet simultaneously wishing he did not know her name either.

Survival is all that matters.

This time had started differently than the others, yes, but it would end the same. She was nothing more than a stepping stone to those above, to those with more to offer. More power. More safety.

He could not grow to care until they were gone. He was lost, but never for long. They would arrive soon with righteous anger spilling forth between frenzied teeth.

I want to live.

Survival is all that matters.